


Tending Wounds

by Shanecei



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alphys - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Underfell, Bartender Reader, Blood, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gender Confusion, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mafia AU, Male Frisk, Mild Gore, Mobster Sans - Freeform, Multi, No resets, Not at the beginning though, Other, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Soulmates, Undyne - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24702379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanecei/pseuds/Shanecei
Summary: A mob boss in the underbelly of Ebbot, hiding a secret of machine.A bartender in the underbelly of Ebbot, hiding a secret of body.A mob boss in the underbelly of Ebbot, hiding a secret of mind.And three people all drawn together by the strings of fate.
Relationships: Alphys/Undyne, Mafia Sans/reader, Red/Reader, Sans/Reader
Comments: 38
Kudos: 126





	1. Tending New Customers

**Author's Note:**

> It's nice of you to read this! As said in the tags, any major warnings will be placed here, such as violence or gore, which will also be rated from mild to severe. Most chapters will range from 1000 to 3000 words, but never less than that.
> 
> I'm writing this to flesh out the skeleton's personalities, so if you want to see more of them, I'll likely be posting stories about the other Au's of them as well.
> 
> No warnings apply

The latest in performers was up on stage. She was singing a newer jazz piece that had the drunken crowd involuntarily swaying to the beat. Tearing my eyes away, I quickly get started on the latest order of drinks, taking a deep breath to settle my aching ribs before _pouring_ (heh) myself into my task.

Allowing an appropriate serving of gin to settle into the shaker, I add a measured half ounce of lemon juice before including the splash of sugar syrup. Taking the container under the bar, I add the crushed ice before putting on the other half of the shaker. Tapping it down to securely fit together, I thoroughly shake the ingredients together then knock the top off and strain it into a flute. Adding the champagne, I wait for the bubbles to subside, before topping it off with a bit more. Swirl with a bar spoon, rub a lemon twist around the rim, put it in the glass and serve.

Repeating this process once more, I quickly pass off the French 75’s and gather my payment before hearing a knock at the door. Eyes flicking to the entrance as the band quiets automatically, I gently place the bills in the drawer, lock it, and make my way over. I slide the flap open in routine to receive the password only to be presented with the chin of a taller person; not only that, but a monster one at that. Holding my hand behind me with three fingers up, the atmosphere relaxes as the band starts a new song to play, knowing that it wasn’t the police as no monster wanted to be a part of that. I subtly force my voice to lower as I speak.

“Password and who sent you.” Nodding to myself at keeping my voice steady, I almost miss the response.

“tweed flat cap, sent by Shawn Avery.” The baritone voice fed my suspicions of the monster being male. He had a Brooklyn accent that sent a fear down my spine for unknown reasons, but as he was correct in the password, and that he mentioned one of my regulars, I had no reason to turn him away. Sliding the flap shut with a click, I unlock the door to let him in. Once the door was open, I had a clear view of who I was dealing with.

It was Red, one of the most notorious gang leaders in Ebbot. My heart leaps into my chest, yet I force it to calm as I actively deal with the more illegal members of society, he would be no different if I follow the courses of respect. His gold tooth glinted from the lights inside, and the darkness of the night silhouetted him into an even more threatening figure than what he naturally was. Waving him in, I dodge a table and go back to tending at my bar. Lifting the bridge, I quickly slide back into place and begin to wipe down an already clean glass. _Definitely not because I was nervous and needed something to do with my hands._

He sits directly in front of me on one of the bar stools. I raise my eyebrow as most illegals take a table in the corner, and this was a clear divergence from the routine I was expecting. Glancing around, I see that he didn’t even bring any lackeys with him to my bar. Keeping my eyebrow raised, I cover my rude gesture with a nod to the liqueur behind me, offering him a drink. He looks away and towards the band before answering.

“surprise me.” This was an obvious trap. It was a test to see what this bar had to offer. It had to be. A bead of sweat forms on my forehead as I glance over at what alcohol I had on hand, as well as what drink he would like. I quickly settle on a Scofflaw, as I remembered that he had a particular affinity for whiskey, as well as needing to give him a mixed drink to show off my prowess.

Putting the glass and cloth away under the bar, I grab a new mixer and begin my routine. Taking a dry vermouth from next to the cloth, I take a peek at Red to see him watching me intently. I put the bottle back under the bar and instead grab a fresh one, cracking it open in front of him to prove that I hadn’t put anything into his drink that could harm him. I measure an ounce into my jigger, take another glance up, and pour another ounce to double the mixture so the drink would be of appropriate size to the monster himself. I put back the drink and grab a rye whiskey from over my shoulder. Pouring each ounce of the four individually felt very awkward, and while pointedly avoiding his gaze I settled to myself that if this went well, to go out and get a double jigger for monster sized drinks.

Adding a half of grenadine, and a quarter of lime juice, I finish off my mixture with a healthy scoop of crushed ice. Knock the top on again and go to shake. _Ok, wow, this is heavier than expected._ Quickly adjusting to the added weight, I begin to shake the shaker with enthusiasm. I could feel the liquid and ice slowly mixing together, so I throw in a few tosses behind and over my head to keep him entertained as I struggled my way through the difficult mixing process.

I finish off as I feel my chest binding begin to slip out of place and pour into a monster sized whiskey glass instead of the traditional cordial. A cordial had no chance of holding all of the drink, and this was the only monster sized thing in my bar. Pushing the drink toward him, I place my mixer off to the side and rest my hands behind my back, finally looking up at him only to catch his intense gaze boring into my eyes.

“Scofflaw, double everything.” It’s a few more moments of silence before he takes the glass. He brings it to his face and scrutinizes it, putting me even more on edge, only to break out into a large grin and chest shaking guffaws as he replaces it on the table.

“aww, i’m just messin with ya. i can tell you didn’t add anythin’ to it.” A huge sense of relief engulfs my chest as I relax and he takes a long drink from the glass. Placing it down once more, he gives a sigh and nods in approval. Giving a charming grin in return, I avoid the confrontation by heading to the person at the other end of the bar, who can be seen blatantly staring at Red. After all, I knew he would call me back over if he wanted information, which he so obviously did as I could still feel his gaze on me as I moved away. I just hope he didn’t ask if I had protection for the bar as I had avoided paying anyone for it so far.


	2. Fees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could he want from you?
> 
> No warnings apply

To catch the newcomer’s attention, I pointedly tap on the bar a few times. He took a few more moments of me staring at him before he realised I was taking his order, but only asked for a cheap beer. I poured him a half pint from one of the barrels I had dragged up, and as I went to hand it off, I noticed something about him.

His eyes where flicking all around the bar, yet he held his head so he was tilted towards the ground. I felt something off about his demeanour, but I had no true evidence so I ignored it in favour of being the neutral bartender. He ignored my presence until the glass hit the counter, and only when I coughed pointedly did he tear his eyes away and begin drinking.

“hey, bartend.” Heart rate spiking involuntarily, I obey and head over to Red. I stand with my hands behind my back like before, yet realise that could be suspicious and instead placed them on the counter in front of me.

“what fees you paying for a place like this?” I grimace. _Of course, he was here for that._ I sigh under my breath and answer him simply, shrugging as I respond.

“Rent, food, drinks, power, plumbing.”

“to the point, aint you? heh, no protection fees?” With a slight raise and tensing of my shoulders, I shake my head. He reaches into his jacket to pull something out. I fist my hands and hunch over slightly, an unconscious attempt to make myself a smaller target, even if its futile with the lack of distance between us.

Instead of the gun that I had expected, it was a small piece of paper. Taking it from his hands, cautious about touching him, I read it over. It was glossy white with a black margin around the edges, with text containing a phone number and his name below it. The card stuck slightly to my fingers due to the perspiration that had been seeping from my skin.

“Why?” I was confused as to why he gave me this, yet I wouldn’t say it out loud even if I was confident in my ability to keep up the masculine voice I had given myself. Red downs the rest of his glass and returns it to me, sliding it along the counter to make a slight scraping sound.

“thanks for the drink, expect my associate to pop in at some point.” With that remark and a wink, he swivels in his stool and leaves my speakeasy.

I fully relax for the first time in a while, yet am still a bit tense about who his associate may be. _It might be Sans, but he’s from a separate gang, even if they do a lot of work together, can he really be his associate if they haven’t merged? It’s more likely to be one of his right-hand men, like Madjick. Also why would he give me his number, is he wanting me to call him? Am I going to do business with him?_ As I get another summon for drinks, I check my watch from my breast pocket, pulling on the bindings slightly as I did so.

“Final call!” I yell out to the bar. Replacing the watch once more, I serve up the last round and begin to bring the glassware behind the bar. Putting them in the sink, I do a quick once over on the bar before carrying out another trip. The majority of the drinkers were still there with the band having just started to pack up. I did notice that the suspicious man had left though, on his own, only piquing my curiosity further.

Finally being able to shut the bar was a relief.  
I finish wiping down the tables from drunken spills and switch the lights off. Making my way down into the basement for the night, I turn from the stove in front of me to the beer barrels on the right, taking stock, before finally switching off from business mode.

With a heavy sigh, I begin to remove my clothing. Undoing the bow tie, it slips off easily due to the high-quality silk it was made from. My waistcoat then is hung up on the front of my wardrobe, with the tie around the hook of the hanger, and my shirt is deftly unbuttoned. Trousers and shirt also hung up to avoid wrinkling, I get started on my favourite part. The bandages around my chest.

The length of the fabric extends further and further as it unravels, and my chest becomes lighter and lighter in turn. While it was one of my most painful things to do, being a bartender was easier if you were a man, so was abandoning your old life; this led to me cutting my hair short in a style that could be passed as either, and binding my chest every time I had to work. I felt strangely comfortable with this, which concerned me as shouldn’t I find difficulty in being masculine as a woman?

Rubbing the marks left in my skin, I throw on a simple set of nightclothes comprised of a soft button up and trousers, as well as shoving my feet into a pair of thick cotton socks. I place the card Red gave me next to the phone I had on my nightstand. Turning away to the stove opposite the foot of my bed, I scooped a serving of the rabbit stew I had made the day before and heated it. A quick meal later, I’m in bed and ready to fall asleep, yet I can’t seem to get my mind off of the night’s events.

I wasn’t quite sure on why I was ruminating on it so much. I had mob patrons before, many a time in fact as my speakeasy was well known to be enforced neutral ground; I even had monsters come in for a drink, even if it was more uncommon. _Why did Red give me his number?_ My eyes are drawn to the paper sitting innocently on my nightstand.

I sit up and flick on the lamp. Taking it into my hands once again, I examine the surface of the glossy card. It still only had a black margin all the way round, and those two lines of text. I flip it over only to see the same margin, yet there was a different number here, this time, Sans was written under it.

Instead of settling my mind, this only raised more questions. _Had they merged but kept it from the public? What kind of jobs do they carry out that we don’t know about? Are they really brothers like so many people think?_  
I grunt and throw it back to its resting place to avoid building a stress induced headache.

Plunging myself into darkness once again, I lay back down and pull the slightly itchy covers over my chest. Forcing myself to stop thinking, I close my eyes and slow my breathing. After a few minutes of this, I finally feel myself drifting off.


	3. Errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A domestic life
> 
> No warnings apply

I open my eyes to a familiar ceiling. A beam can be seen running across the centre of the room as a support, and I make a note to dust it off when I come back from shopping. I glance at the clock to see its nearing one in the afternoon. Climbing out from the covers, I leave them bunched at the end of the bed, as there’s no point if it’s going to get messed up again tonight.

Having a slice of bread, I gather what I’m going to wear for the day. The bindings are replaced as I’m going to be buying goods for the bar, and I don’t need a secret affair or anything ridiculous like that to pop up as rumours around me. I put on a more casual version of my bartending outfit; it was the same other than not having the bowtie and waistcoat, with suspenders and few buttons undone. Placing a tweed cap on my head, the inspiration for the password as it had significance to me, and pushing my sleeves up, I leave the basement and shut the trapdoor behind me. Taking a quick glance into the ice box and its contents, I grab a leather satchel from under the counter and head out.

Locking the door behind me, I take a glance down the street. No one pays attention to me, so I simply pull my cap a bit further down my head and begin my journey to the supermarket. It was a pleasant day, not too hot and the sun was only blocked by a thin layer of cloud, keeping it bright yet not blinding.

As I get nearer, more and more monsters can be seen roaming as well. Whilst there was still a considerable amount more of humans, it was also closer to the unofficial monster district, creating a slight mix of the two species.

I push open the door. It was a bit calmer than normal as it was around the time most would be eating lunch. Heading down the aisle, I glance over the products before going to the next. I spot the eggs and grab them, as I was running low on them for devilled eggs to serve. I continue down and go to turn into the next, only to stop as some pancake mix caught my eye. It had been a while since I had treated myself to anything sweet, so with a small grin, I grabbed a box and continue on.

When I turn into the next row of goods, I bump into another person. An exclamation escapes me before I can supress it, and I hope that it wasn’t someone who would recognise my face. Looking up, I sigh in relief as I don’t recognise them, yet quickly offer a hand to help them up.

“I’m sorry.” Their soft paw grabs my own as they lift themselves up.

“No no, it’s quite alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She smiled softly down at me as I began to pick up the few things she had dropped. Scooping them in my arms, I return them to her with a smile of my own, only to falter as I get a clear view of her face. Tipping my hat toward her, I quickly turn to walk away, ignoring the paw that she began to raise toward me.

I pay for my groceries and leave with a slight urgency, as it was too high of a risk to interact with Toriel, co-head of the Dreemurr family. I don’t think she noticed that I knew who she was, which allowed me to relax slightly as I knew I would overthink this otherwise. I take a few detours from my usual route just in case, and head back toward my safe haven.

Once the door is locked behind me once more, I fully relax. I place what I bought onto the counter and get more comfortable. Dropping my cap onto the coat stand, I shoulder off the suspenders to hang at my sides as I roll up my sleeves more securely in preparation of my work. I fling open the trapdoor and let it fall against the wall behind it.

I grab one of my large pots and fill it with water. Once I set it onto the stove, I set it to a rolling boil before adding in a two dozen eggs. On the side, I grab a mixing bowl and measure out a mixture of paprika, mayonnaise and mustard powder, and in another fill it with cold water. Once they eggs are hard boiled, I ladle them out into the cold water bowl and begin to peel them. Humming a tune, I brush the shells into the bin at my side, before pulling a knife from the block and slicing them all in half. I scoop out the yolks with a spoon and drop them into the spices, thoroughly mixing them before depositing the mixture into the formerly empty whites. I split one of them in the process, and shrugged, before popping the half into my mouth.

I chew thoughtfully as I bring the bowl of devilled eggs up the ladder, sliding it onto the floor before climbing out after it. _Will the associate come tonight? No, that’s unlikely, at least a few days to keep a bit more secrecy, right?_ I put it all into the fridge to serve later and change into my tending clothes. As I’m tying my bowtie, I get an early knock at the door, but with a check of my pocket watch, it’s exactly nine thirty, so I quickly finish up and let them in without having to speak as they offer up the password willingly.

Shawn’s grin shines brightly at me and as he pulls me into a side hug. I return it with a pat on the back as he calls in a couple of his friends behind him and heads to the bar. After rolling my eyes good naturedly at one of my first returning patrons, I take my pace behind the counter and lock the bridge flap behind me.

They all order a round of beers, so I pour them off the tap and settle into the routine of serving and cleaning after the underbelly of New Ebbot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are doing well! And I apologise for the lack of skelebooty in this chapter, but this is just to set up some key emotions associated with the bar. I might update a bit sooner to make up for the boneless chapter, so keep an eye out!
> 
> Also, it's not actually the 1920's, more like the culture is, whilst the technology had a massive kickstart due to monster research. Basically, modern tech, old attitudes.
> 
> Stay face, wash your safe, and wear a mask over hands!
> 
> (but in all seriousness, there is a dangerous amount of people wearing their masks improperly, please make it cover the BRIDGE OF YOUR NOSE to OVER YOUR CHIN, with no gaps. If it is loose around your cheeks, try twisting the strings around glasses, if it is loose at the nose//upper cheek, pinch the metal in the surgical masks, otherwise try to tailor it) Sorry for the rant, it's because I have two healthcare workers in my family and I'm more than slightly annoyed with the public.


	4. And Then there were Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pressure is building, when will it burst?
> 
> Mentions of gun related violence

Every time the knocking came, I tensed before looking. Red’s words rang in my mind, _“expect my associate”_ , only haunting me as I waited for the inevitable monster that would arrive. He never specified if it would be tonight, only that it would happen, and while he had said it in a non-threatening manner, I knew better than to trust the words of a don.

When the time had finally come, I had just managed to convince myself that it wasn’t going to happen tonight. The knocking resonated once more at the very end of my shift, the band not here tonight so no need to silence them, and I made my way over to the worn wooden door.

A ‘thunk’ and the flap is open. A skeletal chin presented itself to me once more, and my self-reassurance was no longer effective. Clearing my throat, I ask for the password to get the normalcy that was steadily draining away between my fingers.

“tweed flat cap, Red Aster.” My heart stopped. _This was his associate? Sans Gaster? Of a separate gang?_ Shaking my head, garnering a stranger look from one of my patrons, I close the flap once more and let him in. I refuse to look at him as I make my way back to my bar, locking the bridge behind me to create a phantom comfort even if I know that it would do nothing I he wanted to harm me; yet it was futile, as just like Red, Sans took a seat right in front me on one of my stools.

“no band tonight? Red said that they were pretty good.” His voice was softer than Red. It had warmer, more even timbre, even if it as the same pitch. It flowed more smoothly and was pleasant on the ears, yet did not create the feeling Red’s gravelly tone would have on a human stomach. Shaking my head at him, I place my hands on the counter to prove that I was safe, whilst stopping myself from comparing him to Red any more. He rested an elbow on the counter and his chin on his fist.

“he said that you made him a pretty good drink, pretty sure it was a scofflow.” I really didn’t like where this was leading to. “how about you make me a surprise too?” _Fuck._ After that played emphatically in my head, I held in my sigh and turned once more to the selection I had on hand.

I start to reach for the gin, yet once I have my hands on the bottle, I realise I didn’t have the lemons to make him a French 75 as I had forgotten to get them when I ran out of the store. Quickly returning the bottle, I instead grab a bourbon. Turning around, I crack open the fresh bottle in front of him and grab my shaker from under the counter, tilting it toward him to prove that it was empty.

The double sized jigger that I had gotten dropped off a few hours earlier was perfect for this occasion, and I was glad I didn’t have to awkwardly measure out ingredients for a long time. I poured two double ounces of the bourbon, four ounces in total, before returning the bottle and adding a handful of mint leaves to the shaker. I glanced up at him to see he was watching intently, yet I caught a gleam of recognition in his eyes as I then added two ounces of sugar syrup.

A scoop of crushed ice later, the top is secured and I’m shaking the drink. Closing my eyes to keep my nerve, I shake over my right shoulder a few moments, then my left, then my right once more before flipping behind my back, catching and stopping. Cracking off the top on the edge of the counter, I grab a highball glass, shake my head and grab the same monster sized whiskey glass I had used before. Adding a touch more crushed ice to top off the drink, I swirl with a bar spoon, feeling quite strange as it wasn’t a tall glass, and garnish with a sprig of mint.

Pushing the drink towards Sans, I toss the spoon into the sink behind me along with the jigger and place my hands once more on the counter. He grabs the glass with little hesitation and brings it to eye level. Once his gaze flicks back to me, I open my mouth, yet before I can utter a word he interjects.

“mint julep, good choice.” I visibly relax as he takes a languid drink. He clearly savours the drink before swallowing, a strange motion to see on a man made of bone. When he looks at me once again, I realise I’m staring and quickly look away. The door is then knocked again, and I thank the stars that I can avoid the atmosphere that I had inadvertently created.

I duck my head at him in a mock bow before escaping. Nearly forgetting to undo the lock, I only just avoid slamming into the gate as I make my way over. The door once more is opened, and I see a familiar jaw through the gap.

“tweed flat cap, and ya should remember this mug.” _There_ was the strange feeling that only a growl could evoke. It signified a danger that I was all too aware of. He leant over to peer through the gap, his bright white eyes breaking the darkness behind him. I let him in, and before I can turn away, a heavy hand falls on my shoulder.

“how ya doing, bartend? has Sans arrived yet?” I gently shrug of his hand as I turn away.

“By the bar.” I can tell he follows me as his footsteps vibrate the floor slightly with each fall of the mammoth weight. _Actually, does bone really weigh that much? It has to, otherwise how could he shake the floorboards._ He takes a seat beside his associate and punches him in the shoulder with a strength that would absolutely bruise a human, yet Sans sways good naturedly.

“howsit going? you try one of bartend’s drinks yet?” Sans rolls his eyes at him and pointedly takes a swig of his drink.

“yeah, mint julep. not what I expected, yet it’s pretty damn good.” I smirk at his praise yet it falters when both of their gazes turn to me. I clear my throat and look at the counter, yet match gazes with Red when he speaks.

“can I get another one o’ those scofflaws?” He rests both arms on the surface and leans forward slightly.

“I’ve only got one monster sized glass, sorry.” I wince and look over at the crowd, missing Sans push Red back by his shoulder with a pointed look.

“ah, so you can say more than one word.” I wince even further at Sans’ words. Hunching over slightly, I also miss the faint hint of regret dust his features as I go to defend myself. Yet a loud shout scatters the amicable air that had settled in the cracks of my bar.

“You fucking monsters!”

And then there were gunshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REALLY WANNA POST CHAPTER 12 BUT IM ONLY ON 4 D:
> 
> Guess I'll have to post more often to get to it, oh no, what a tragedy :P


	5. A bit Uprooted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you do if everything was pulled out from beneath your feet?
> 
> Gun violence, blood, gun wounds, fainting, pain

A cacophony of shouts rang out in tandem with the loud bangs. I grabbed a patron and pulled him over as I ducked down behind the bar, attempting to help reduce the loss of lives. It was only a few seconds before the sixth shot was fired, and then few more before the other gun ran out, and in those brief moments I had crawled over top of the man I pulled and to the bridge.

Peaking my head out from under it, I saw Red holding one shooter up against the wall by his neck with his other hand forcing the gun from his hand. How he managed to get across the room that quickly was a feat, yet the bullet hole going through the stomach of his jacket shows that he wasn’t unscathed. Sans was standing with one arm held out, gun smoking with a hole in the other’s head. A couple people had knocked over a table to use as a shield, whilst the final few were lying flat on the floor.

Grabbing the revolver I kept by the bridge, I stood and looked around the bar now that it was unobstructed. Red threw the man to the ground, eye blazing, and just as a snarl was ripped from his throat, I saw another man aim a gun at his back. A loud shout escaped me before I could stop myself.

“HEY!” I didn’t try to mask my femininity in the slightest, a move I would probably regret in the future. He went to look in my direction, and as he did, he looked down the barrel of my raised my gun. A breath out, an eye shut, and _bangbang!_

For a brief moment, all I could see was the man. His head flung back as he began to turn, blood spraying from the hole in his head as a fine mist. The moment he hit the ground I noticed the warmth in my shoulder. Looking down, I saw my left arm resting limply at my side and a growing patch of red. A shaky movement of air escaped me. Dropping my gun, a dangerous move, I raised my right hand to press against the wound in my shoulder. I didn’t feel any pain, only warmth.

Looking up once more, I spotted Sans. He was facing me with a horrified expression; his eye lights were pinpricks and his mouth had shrunk dramatically and turned down, hiding the ever-present smile he was known for. His head was drawn backwards slightly and his shoulders hunched up. My eyes were then drawn to the gun that was pointed in my direction.

“Oh…” _That’s why there were two shots._ It was smoking anew, the shot giving life back to the rising symbol of death. I watched it curl for a brief moment that felt like an eternity as the source of my injury slowly began to lower. Staggering with my suddenly weak legs, my back hit the wall as bottles on the shelf clinked in protest. A high-pitched ringing was quiet in my ears, yet it easily drowned out anything else. Sliding down, I fell until I was on the floor, my wide-eyed expression etched deeply into the skin as tears began to well up.

Suddenly, Red was in front of me. I looked into his eyes as his mouth moved, yet I was unhearing. I fell to the side, but before I could hit the ground, I felt an arm catch me and slow my decent. My head hit the floor, jolting the tears to begin their path across my cheeks, and I looked up. Red was kneeling by my side, a hand grasping my right forearm. I watched him violently gesture at someone that I couldn’t see.

Tunnel vision narrowed until all I could see was his face. He looked down at me and placed a hand over the one I was using to stem the blood flow, adding more pressure. I could see less and less, yet I managed to focus on his mouth as he was saying one phrase over and over again as he stared into my eyes. It took a few tries but I finally deciphered what he was trying to say.

 _“don’t you dare die now!”_ I give a tiny, wry grin. Closing my eyes gently, I feel humour even as the salty liquid continued to draw lines down my face.

I still couldn’t follow orders.

Waking up was violent, just as falling asleep was. The pain was a sudden burst that was akin to getting shot all over again. Minus the shock that is.

I was sobbing violently. Trying to stay as still as possible was difficult, yet it was the only way I could think to reduce the pain in my shoulder. A loud, shuddering intake in of air only allowed me a muffled yell of pain. I hear a gasp come from somewhere in the room, so I forced my eyes open to look in that direction. I spot Toriel coming to my side in a rush and kneel beside the bed from a wide-open door.

“Shh, it’s okay, my child.” Along with these murmured words of comfort, she placed her paws over the wound. A green glow was the last thing I saw before I had to shut my eyes again. The constant stream of gentle words kept me grounded whilst the pain was steadily reduced. My hysterical crying pattered out into gentle sobs as the trauma of the event took hold.

 _I was shot. I was shot! Sans shot me!_ My body was shaking. The moment the green behind my eyelids faded, I curled into a ball on my side. The tremors grew more vicious as I tried to supress them, and the moment warm arms embraced me, I gave up control.

Gripping the front of her shirt in an iron grip, I sobbed out my feelings to the first warmth I had received in years. She didn’t say anything about my situation, only held me and soothed my fears. Once I had cried myself out, I went limp, passed out.

Toriel didn’t know how to feel about this situation.

When Sans had teleported into her living room, she was obviously shocked. He always knocked on the door, even if he could easily bypass it as he just did. What was even more shocking, however, was that Red was accompanying him with a bleeding human in his arms. Once she lay eyes on the poor boy, she dropped the book she was reading and flew out of her chair to help him, tugging him from Red’s lax arms and rushing to a spare bedroom.

The door slammed against the wall as she burst in. Laying the boy on the plush surface, she started to pull off his waistcoat. When she began to unbutton the shirt, she saw a long strip of fabric running across his chest. This gave her pause, yet when she rested her hands on it to undo, she realised that it was far softer than a man should be. Realising the truth that she clearly tried to hide, she shook herself off and instead ripped the sleeve off the shirt instead, giving her access yet keeping the girl modest and covered. Toriel’s gaze pinned the boys in place as she began to gather materials to wrap the wound.

“What happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaAAAAAAA i'm just going to shove this here but owl-bones on tumblr recently reached 1500 followers and I won the art raffle!! You should check them out, and stare at the masterpiece with a surprisingly accurate portrayal of me with Red! Their art is just... mwah and I would highly recommend checking them out
> 
> I am so surprised I won, and even more surprised as they initially told me it would take around a week or two, only to finish it in a day! I'm so happy hnnnnnnnn I sound like a broken squeaky toy
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the angst you know this is going to bring in future ;P


	6. Surrounding Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could that face mean?
> 
> Mentions of gun wounds, general pain

I was roused gently this time.

Light filtered through the gaps in the curtain, bathing the room in a soft glow. Looking around, I could tell I was in a spare bedroom, as it was sparsely decorated yet contained basic amenities such as the bed I was on and a wardrobe in the corner. As I sat up, my feet left the blankets warmth to rest on a plush rug poking from beneath the bedframe.

Glancing at my shoulder, I noticed I was still in the clothes I wore on that day; my sleeve was torn at the shoulder seam, and a bandage was wrapped tightly around the joint. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I still had my bindings, yet concerned as at least one person must have figured out at least a part of the truth. As I stood, the weight of my arm pulled it down, causing pain to blossom once more. Hissing out between my teeth, I grabbed the left arm with my right and held it across my chest, leaving to room to explore further. The door was unlocked and lead to a hallway. Looking left only showed a dead end decorated with a table and flowers. Taking the only option, I shuffled slowly down until I reached a set of stairs. Manoeuvring down them was slow, yet I managed to without slipping. The foyer was simple, so I followed the sound I could pinpoint until I reached a kitchen and came face to face with a child.

He grinned brightly at me as he hopped over. Barely coming to chest height, he grabbed me by my good elbow and gently lead me to a table to sit.

“How you feeling? Mum said that you would wake up soon, so she left out some porridge! It’s still warm! She’ll be back soon, so eat up!” Blinking owlishly, the child grabbed me a bowl of the aforementioned porridge. As I began to eat, I watched him return to his own seat and eat with me. A glance at a clock showed that it was a few minutes past seven.

“How long have I been out?” He counted on his fingers briefly. My morning voice making it easy to keep up my front.

“Twenty-eight hours!” I choke slightly on my mouthful. _Over a day?!_ I nod and accidentally begin to stare intently at my food as I consider the events.

 _Ok, ok, so. Red, head of the Aster gang, came into my bar. The literal next day, Sans, head of the Gaster gang, visited on recommendation from Red. I made them both surprise drinks and kept my head_ somehow, _yet Red interrogated me for the protection fees that I was managing to avoid paying for the bar._ My head throbs slightly as I try to remember the night of the shooting. Resting an elbow on the table, I massage my temple lightly.

 _Red ended up turning up again, and seemed quite chummy with his ‘associate’, punching him in the arm. Racists started a shootout with the guys._ I squint my eyes to focus on the memory. _Red disarmed one and threw him to the ground, Sans shot the other, and there was a third? Yeah, three, ‘cause I shot him in the head when he tried to take out Red… so how did I_ _get shot? Was there a fourth attacker?_ I couldn’t remember, and trying to dredge up the memory only produced clouds that obscured it further. All I could see was a hazy figure, and a gun pointing at me. Hands pulling at my shirt snapped me out of my thinking.

“Are you alright, mister?” I smile gently at the kid and ruffle his hair. It was pleasantly soft beneath my fingers and served to ground me further.

“Yeah, I’m good kid.”

“Oh! Here’s some clothes, Mum wants you to take a shower, said it would make you feel better.” He scrambled off and grabbed a pile from the nearby counter. Glancing down I unfolded a shirt that was clearly too small for me, and a pair of soft slacks that would just fit. A strange sound then filled the room.

Well, it wasn’t really a sound, more like the lack of any? Yet it still caught my attention even as the birds outside continued to yell their morning greetings. Then it suddenly disappeared and in through the door walked a new figure, Sans. He looked around until settling on me, and gave me a strange look that I couldn’t decipher. I tensed, worried that he might think I called the hit on them at the bar, and he seemed to deflate at that?

The boy broke the brief encounter by flying out and tackling him just as he finished hanging his jacket. He grasped him around the waist as far as his arms could reach and loudly yelled. I could tell without looking that I made a strange face in turn at the idea of a skeleton having a waist to grab onto.

“Uncle Sans!” A rumbling chuckle responded. Picking up the child, Sans held him at arms-length straight out, and made a mock face of disgust.

“and who is this stink? can’t be Frisk, he’s even stinkier than this.” Frisk, the boy, giggled at the comment before sticking out his tongue, and wiggling out of his grip. He turned to me and dramatically pointed at his uncle.

“Hey mister, Sans rescued you! He appeared in the living room like bam! And then Mum grabbed you and slammed the door open as she put you in the bedroom! And then she was like, using magic to heal you and it was really cool! I was asleep, but I woke up to the door slamming and it was still cool!” Frisk continued to ramble about his family as my eyes were drawn to Sans.

He was looking away and his shoulders were hunched up, stretching his suspenders as he rolled his sleeves up his arms. I could see a sweat drop begin to form on his skull as Frisk continued to praise him, yet my soft interruption pulled his attention back to me.

“Thank you for your help, Mr Gaster.” Not looking for his reaction, I instead turned to the child who had finally stopped speaking.

“Would you have a larger shirt?”

“let me grab you one.” Before I could turn my head, he swiftly exited the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't have anything interesting to say today, so i'll just leave you with well wishes to stay safe and the totally true idea that i'm writing a lot... yeah... true story


	7. Property Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an actual converstion!  
> ...that is what I wanted, right?
> 
> No warnings

The shower was a welcome relief. Before I went in, Sans had returned with a shirt of unknown origin that was a too big, soft white button up. I didn’t want to make any more fuss, and a larger shirt would probably be better as I didn’t have to unbutton it to get it on. As I got undressed, I undid the bandages to see only a puckered scar on my shoulder.

I was stunned. Gently prodding it as I bathed revealed that whilst it was no longer there, the pain was very much present. Instead of the stabbing I first experienced, a deep-set ache that was nearly as painful emanated from the area. Resting my head on the wall, I had to take a few breaths when I had let my arm drop to my side by accident, preventing any noises from escaping. I finished up more cautiously after that.

It took a while, but I was fully clothed once more, minus any bindings. Looking into the mirror was strange. Looking back at me was a stranger with my face. They had deep bags and sleepy eyes, dripping hair and heated cheeks, baggy clothes and taught muscles, all presented on a backdrop of steam. I forced my gaze away.

I carried my ruined shirt and trousers with me as I left, bandages shoved in the trouser pocket. Not knowing much else, I returned to the kitchen to see that Toriel had returned from wherever she had gone. She was talking to Frisk who was sitting at the table while Sans, who remained standing, contributed every so often. I cleared my voice to get their attention, as I _really_ didn’t want to get any closer to them. Toriel instantly perked up and looked me over. I shuffled under her gaze as I looked at the load in my hands.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Catching her eye, I shrugged my good shoulder before looking away once more.

“Thank you.” It was pulled from my throat out of shame. I knew to never interact with the highest-ranking members of society, yet here I was, now indebted to them from actions out of my control.

“I’m sure you have a few questions.” She grabbed a bag that was hanging off the back of her chair. Frisk also slid off his chair, and ran past me into the corridor. “I will be taking my child to school, so direct anything you wish to know to Sans, who will answer as best he can.” At the end of that, she sent a withering glare to the mentioned man. He shrunk under her gaze, which would be amusing if it weren’t for the new knowledge that even he was scared of Toriel.

Frisk ran back with a messenger bag and grabbed her hand. Toriel said to put the ruined clothes in the bin, as the shirt and vest was torn, along with bloodstains dotting the slacks. They both waved goodbye, one with far more enthusiasm, before leaving the house. The moment the door locked behind the two, silence clawed its way into the kitchen. Looking at Sans, he was tense as well, yet he remained looking at the door as if it would let him escape. I felt that the only reason he wasn’t was because of Toriel’s warning. Just as the creeping silence began to fill my lungs, he sent it scattering away once more.

A sigh was all it took. He wiped a hand down his face and turned toward me, hand remaining on his chin for a brief second before falling. He tilted his head invitingly before taking a seat.

“c’mon, kid. i know you want some answers.” He had the expression of a man before the execution block. This only set off warning signs in my head, even as I took the furthest seat from his own directly opposite him. I sat for a brief second before starting my questions.

“Where am I?” I limited myself, as too much one on one speech, bad things could result.

“you’re at the Dreemurr family house.” _I could guess as much._ Keeping my snark to myself, I continued my line of questioning.

“Why am I still in pain?”

“ah,” He seemed to relax slightly. “how much you know about souls?” I gave a vague motion in response.

“alright. basically, they’re what makes you, you. if it gets some magic pumped in, if it’s healed, your body gets healed too. problem is, it has to be consented to; it’s all about intent with this kind of stuff.” He shifted in place a bit, resting his elbows on the table and making small hand motions as he spoke. It helped normalise him, having a quirk like that, letting me lower my guard just a small amount.

“an unconscious person can’t give consent as the soul is dormant, so when you woke up, Toriel could finally give you some magic that you could then use to fix yourself.” _That’s what the green glow was then, still doesn’t explain why I’m in pain though._ I gave him a look to get to why I was hurting, and he easily read it.

“so yeah, your soul fixed your body, but because you’re human it still thinks your injured as you’re not meant to heal like this.” I squinted at the grain in the table. His explanation was plausible, and he had no reason to lie to me, so I reluctantly accepted this as fact. I tossed up between two questions, and decided to ask a simple one so I had time to process this answer before having a new one thrown at me.

“Who shot me?” Instantly, any relaxation vanished. His face closed itself off, his elbows were removed from the table and hands stuffed into pockets. Any chance for the endearing hand motions were no longer there. _Wait, endearing?_

Suddenly, the not-sound returned, yet it felt louder than ever. Now that I was in a better state of mind, my eyes widened in his direction, my suspicions on the information I had gathered making itself known. It was only when the sound cut off and he was still there that I tore my eyes away to search the kitchen.

“hey, he awake yet?” I spotted him walking through the doorway of the kitchen. Red was tugging his tie loose as he put a fedora on the coat stand. He spotted me when the hat was securely placed, lighting up.

“Hey, bartend.” Red winks at me as he continues to undress. I’m slightly concerned that he may strip completely, but he stops with a couple buttons undone on his untucked shirt. His sternum, clavicle and one of his upper ribs are poking through, drawing my eye to them in curiosity.

As he goes to roll up his sleeves, I can see them shift with the smooth movement. They are obviously thicker than a normal human, as it would be impossible to have his imposing figure otherwise. _It certainly explains his silhouette, guess they’re both the definition of the term barrel chested._ I flick my eyes away before I can be caught, yet Sans is looking at me when I do, so I have little faith he didn’t see my roaming eyes. Red also turns his attention to Sans, including him into the conversation.

“just popped into the bar, seems some goons trashed the place.” My heart instantly sank. Making my way over to Red, I grip one of his arms; briefly noting that my hand doesn’t even begin to make the circumference of the bone.

“Take me there?” My morning voice was beginning to fade, raising in pitch as I spoke more, yet I couldn’t care less.

“gonna have to wait, kid.” I squinted at Sans over my shoulder. He shrunk under my gaze and continued. “Tori has the car, mine’s at my place.”

“Teleport me.” His eyes darkened, losing the lights that once filled them. He was now stock still, and if I cared to look at Red, who’s upper arm I was still holding, I would see a similar expression.

“and how would you know about that.” It was hardly a question. I laugh bitterly.

“You don’t seriously think I was just a bartender, in this city? But that’s a story for later, take me to my bar, and I’ll tell you anything you want about my job.” I was sinking into my work persona, shedding behind the worries of social standing and my own pain to fully focus on my task. A sigh from behind me and a gentle hand removing my own changed my attention to a similar yet different pair of eyes.

“alright, but it ain’t a pretty sight.”

“Just take me.” He gripped my shoulder as the not-sound filled my ears, I could feel it pressing against my eardrums for the briefest of seconds before it was black. I glanced around nervously, seeing only Red by my side, and then the sensation of too much once we reached out destination. The light was even brighter than looking into the sun. It burned my eyes as I tried to get a grasp of my surroundings, yet I ignored my dizziness and pulled away from Red’s supporting arm. Resting a hand on a wall, I finally blinked away the nausea, yet it was quick to return once I had a good look at my surroundings.

Each chair and table appeared to have had special attention, as not a single one was left without a missing leg or gouge or bullet hole. I walked through the destroyed seating area toward my bar area, dragging a finger across a few items of furniture as I did, the slight pricks of splinters grounding me. The counter had jeers scratched into its surface, and as I read a few, I could see the skeletons both watching me, Sans also taking stock of the surroundings. At the thought of stocks, my attention was drawn behind the bar.

I passed the bridge, not needing to lift it as it was on the floor a few feet away. Every bottle was empty, at least the ones that were left, and the other half were shattered. I stood in my usual station, hands on the counter in a mimicry of the nights I spent here, staring at the empty venue that mirrored my inner turmoil. The dedicated stage area was the cleanest place, yet I had a sneaking suspicion that there was urine there due to the acrid smell accompanying the scene. I spotted the entrance from afar, seeing clear signs of forced entry with crowbar indents dotting the wall and door.

Taking a deep breath, I continue to force down my emotions. Tucking in the too-large shirt while I consider on my next actions, keeping it in mind that I was not bound in my chest so leaving it a bit loose. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I pull forward my shoulders slightly to hide my figure even more and lean back against the newly ripped off shelf’s wall. Opening my eyes reveals what the others had been doing as I examined my life’s work down the drain.

Sans was staring straight up at the ceiling. Well, not really, his eyes were shut and it looked like he was in a degree of pain; face slightly scrunched up and hands fisted in his trouser pockets, still lacking his jacket. Red was nearer to me, sitting a couple places down at the bar on one of the less broken stools, only the stuffing torn out of the top. He looked down at me, and while his face appeared perfectly neutral, his eye lights were slightly bigger than I could recall them being. He glanced back behind him and the empty surroundings, and the familiarity in combination with the lack of direct eyeline broke me. The nearly perfect mirror of our first meeting, only a night before I would be shot and lose everything.

A single, purposeful sniff echoed in the silent room. Both heads whipped to me as rested my head on my folded arms, bending over on the counter hiding my face. A shaky breath escaped me as I swallowed, and a shallow intake soon followed. I refused to let myself cry though, so after a few moments, I composed myself and stood up once more, jolting at Sans now in front of me. His hands were no longer in his pockets, and one appeared to reach out for me, but I shook off the cracks in my persona and sunk even deeper into my mind. Taking a step back, I crossed my arms and finally addressed them.

“What would you like to know?” They exchanged a glance between themselves, and Sans was the one to answer.

“kid, you’re not a guy, are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah no, I got nothing. My brain managed to think that if I was writing, I must be posting, but nope! I just have a backlog of chapters and only posted up to chapter 6...
> 
> oops :P


	8. Knowledge is Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get to feel in control for a bit, but how long can you convince yourself of this façade?
> 
> Mentions of kidnapping, sex trafficking, being shot and racists.

My heart stops. No really, I feel the adrenalin spike it so quickly that it took a second to catch up. Hiding my clear discomfort, I tuck my hands under my armpits to cover up my chest and scowl.

“What’s it to you?” I bite out, staring at the floor.

Sans lifts his hands in a show of surrender. This uncharacteristic motion was strange enough to remind me of my situation. I had finally gotten my head back on straight and was rethinking the attitude I had been giving the two mobsters. Before I had the chance to pull back everything I had said, my work persona took over for me as I buried myself even deeper.

“I offered answers, _work_ related answers. You can take them, or you can leave and we’ll go on our separate ways.” _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck._ With that snippish remark, I was surprised my head was still intact at this point. I was pulled from the floor to look to Red, as he was stifling a laugh, looking at Sans and not myself. My hopes began to rise, as if I had one on my side, that could only mean good things, right?

I flicked my eyes over to the other man. The pain I had seen before on his face was back, and this time it looked as if I was forcing him to choose between two things that would both lead to destruction. My scowl returned, as while I had no clue of the cause of his discomfort, it could only mean negative things for myself.

“alright, kid. no need to bite my head off.”

“thought ya said you would tell us ‘anything ya want’?” I didn’t even get a chance to tense before Sans stepped in. He elbowed Red violently in the ribs, reminiscent of his friends’s shove when they came out drinking. My expression fell away as the scowl rose up on his face instead, clearly saying to not push it.

“shut it, hotshot.”

After the light “scolding”, he turned away from his associate and instead pouted into the empty space to his left, causing me to snort. At the sound, he blinked, and both once again whipped their attention to me as I covered my face with one of my hands. My emotions were understandably a bit haywire from the stress of being around them and what happened to my beloved speakeasy, so I had to physically muffle a few hysterical giggles at the situation. A few moments, and I can look them in the eye once more, but this time with a small grin. Sighing, I keep my expression light and plant my hands in my pockets once more, not bothering to mask my voice any longer.

“Alright, so, any _relevant_ questions?”

“yeah, ya know we’re yer sou-” Red was once _again_ blocked by Sans. My light expression became a bit more genuine at seeing the notorious Red being bossed around so casually. I tilted my head with a raised brow, prompting for the rest of his question, yet it was simply ignored.

“what gangs have you got info on?” I smirked at Sans, feeling in my element.

“Which ones do I not?”

It didn’t the that long for them to realise I knew almost everything that the underbelly had to offer; barring the things that were hidden so deeply in the gangs that only the dons and their right-hand men knew. Once they had exhausted themselves with my ‘light summaries’ of a few families, they finally got to the question that I had been expecting from the beginning. Sans had his head in his hands, having pulled up one of the other mostly solid stools, rubbing at his temples.

“hey, wait a sec. bartend, if ya know all o’ this, whaddya know ‘bout _our_ gangs?” Red had taken up a smoke at this point, chin on one hand. I didn’t give him any shit for it as, honestly, it masked the scent of urine quite well. He gestured vaguely in the air, something I caught out of the corner of my eye as I scanned for a single bottle on my shelf that was intact. I let them both sit for a few moments as I remembered one that I had been saving for a special occasion, knocking a loose panel in the floor to retrieve it. With a quiet cheer, I stand and plant it on the counter. They both look to it as I go to grab a bottle opener, yet I don’t get a step in before shrugging and popping it off with my teeth. Taking a straight gulp from the bottle, I sigh, feeling a weight leave my shoulders. They let me drink for a bit, allowing a buzz to settle before Red speaks up.

“didn’t take ya for a scotch drinker.” A bit of liquid courage and I can respond in a bit more jovial manner, giving a light jab to the skeleton’s taste.

“Better than a watered down to forty percent, non-aged from who knows where whiskey.” I take another swig and lean my elbows on the counter in front of him.

I lick my lips clean of any drops left behind. I watch as Red’s eyelights flick to my lips, then back to my eyes. The eye contact had a smoulder in them, something I had only been seeing from dames in the last few years. It caught me slightly off guard, as he must know I was a woman for certain, or he just didn’t care; either way, it sent my chest fluttering slightly.

A clearing of a throat snapped us both out of it. Realising we were doing the cliché of leaning in slowly, I pulled myself back and went to pull at the front of my waistcoat, only to grab air. Dropping my one hand, and lifting the other to get more alcohol in me, I return to the problem at hand.

“W-well.” Shaking the blush off my face, I sigh and grin wryly.

“I know enough to create the drinks that would be your favourites,” I nod at Red. “a scofflaw with a rye whiskey that was the spiciest on hand; mostly to make release some tension, along with a shorter pour of grenadine to keep it bitter as a wake me up.” Another nod, toward Sans this time.

“Whilst you got a mint julep; stereotypically a feminine drink, yet I know that you’re an insomniac, so a refreshing drink would get me brownie points. A taller pour of sugar syrup to hit that not-so-hidden sweet tooth, and, well.” I shrug, noncommittal about the response I would get.

They both looked at me with a slight shock. They were probably surprised as to how I knew this, but honestly, they showed it clearly in their public appearances.

I could easily tell Red was a hothead due to the sheer amount of conflict he drew to himself. It wasn’t due to enjoyment, yet it was clear he derived at least _some_ from it, as he never usually instigated, only escalated. A wake me up bitterness was needed, as he was always seen later on in a half-asleep state most dons would never be caught dead in.

Sans had no regard for society and its expectations of him. While he did lean toward the more masculine side of himself, he could be seen doing feminine things such as shopping for his household or baking, so I could serve him any drink without being insulted over stereotypes. ~~Something I was _not_ jealous of, I assure you.~~ I assumed he was an insomniac as he took naps almost everywhere he went, as long as he had his brother with him that is. Now, a sweet drink? That was a guess on my part, intuition of his character that wasn’t _really_ based on anything concrete. My statement and his reaction did confirm that guess though. File that tid-bit away for something strange later.

“right…” Sans spoke up, breaking the quite that fell after my examination of their habits and how it would correspond to their drinks.

“well, kid, i’ve got a proposition for you. you see, me and Red have formed an… alliance of sorts. and you’ve got your fingers in quite a few bowls there, bowls that would greatly benefit all of us.” Sans was gesturing with both hands, a uniqueness that I garnered some comfort out of. A faint _something_ in my chest, not too dissimilar from mine and Red’s moment, reared its head once again.

“the Cattaneo family,” I nodded at his pause to show I knew who he was talking about. “have been encroaching on my land, not too big of a deal if it weren’t for what they were doing.” A sinking feeling smothered the _something_ that was there. _It can’t be…_

“they’re takin’ people, sex trafficking i tell ya. what we do know is that they ain’t being seen again, and that ya gotta stop being such a dramatic ass, Blue.” I huffed a laugh. There was something off about this interaction though; something between the two of them that was being left unsaid, something that I felt I already knew, but _what_. Sans, aka ‘Blue’, rolled his eyes and waved him off. Gathering his thoughts again, he continued.

“ _anyway,_ the information you’ve got and your skills in getting it are useful, so if you agree we can help you set yourself up again in return for anything you learn.”

“What about me being in your debt?” He looks at me strangely, as if not knowing what I was referencing.

“Taking me to Toriel after I was shot? By the racists at the bar? I guess I’m in Red’s debt as well, since he put pressure on the wound…” I enunciated the words deliberately, but mumble the last part more to myself than anyone else. I heard a sharp intake of breath, but I was unsure of who it was from.

“kid, in my eyes we’re equal. sure, i got you healed up, but you just gave us a lot of good info in return.” Red then chimed in.

“plus, ya wouldn’t have been in this mess if it weren’t for me in ya bar. after all, they were aimin’ at us, ya just got caught up in the mess.” Another boulder fell off my shoulders knowing that I still had my record of never being in debt, favours or otherwise.

I fell back until I was on the wall once again. My head knocked against the splintering plaster as I shut my eyes, sighing heavily. While I was portraying that I was thinking about their offer, my heart had already made my decision, slightly scaring the more logical part of my brain. _Why was I so eager to take them up? I don’t owe them anything, and sure, it would be difficult to get set up again without stock, but I could probably do it. So why? What is it with these guys that make me so irrational?_

“Alright.” I open an eye to catch their reactions. Red’s grin widened and his gold tooth shined in the dim lighting, glinting at me. Sans rose a hand over the bar which I took, a single bounce of our hands and the deal was complete.

“heh, pleasure to be working with you, kid.” I dropped his hand and took a step back, suddenly uncomfortable.

“So what now?”

“first, you got anywhere to stay?” It suddenly hit me that I never looked into my room in the basement.

A slightly choked sound escaped me as I flew toward the right of the area behind the counter. I began lifting some miscellaneous debris off of the trapdoor, yet struggled with a few of the larger pieces. When I got to a toppled shelf, skeletal hands adorned with rings lifted it against the wall, I offhandedly thanked them and crouched to open the hatch. A creak followed by a thud signified that I was successful, allowing me to slide down into the dark.

I didn’t bother to invite nor forbid them from following. Flicking on the lights, my eyes became slightly wet as I noticed that no one came into my home. A stack of three barrels still sat in the corner, filled to the brim with beer, as well as a case or two of liquor. My bed was just as messy as when I first woke up, and there, on the stove, sat my last serving of rabbit stew. I travelled the floor to look into my wardrobe, confirming that not a single thing was out of place. I turned back to them, Sans stepping off the last rung of the ladder.

“Well, I have this, but uh… it’s not exactly _safe_ anymore.” I pulled the leather satchel I had used for groceries and began to fill it with my clothes. I didn’t bother folding anything, and left a set of clothes on my bed so I could change into them.

“you can stay at mine until we sort something out.” Just as I begin to thank him profusely, I was interrupted.

“in yer damn mansion? not the best for someone with new enemies, Blue. they can stay with me in my place, lower profile.”

“Either way,” Putting my thoughts in. “thank you, both of you.” I smiled at them softly over my shoulder, but quickly turn back to grabbing a spare pair of shoes for my still bare feet.

“Can I change before we head out? While I appreciate the clothes, the shirt is a bit…”

“not yer’s? heh, don’t worry ‘bout it, head up when yer done packin’.” Red gripped Sans’ arm and they both teleported away. I tilted my head, confused as to why he forced Sans along with him, as I knew that he could take himself through his magic. Shrugging, I take his suggestion and pull my shirt off my shoulders, heading to the small shower in the other room to grab my toiletries as well.

“ya think yer slick, eh?” I pull my arm out of his grip, bone grinding against bone. I roll my eyes and shove my sleeves up a bit further, putting my hands into my pockets once I did so.

“so what? it’s just a shirt.” After I shot you, I could barely contain my soul. It felt as if it were going to burst out at any moment, through fear or sheer proximity, I didn’t know. All I did know was that you didn’t seem to remember that specific detail, so when you needed a larger shirt, I jumped at the opportunity to get my scent on you. It calmed me knowing that you had something of mine, and I knew Tori would question me later, but for now I wanted to keep it to myself. Then Red had to turn up and barge into the room.

“don’t play dumb with me, ya know exactly what wearing people’s clothes in my world meant.” I stumble back at the violent prod to my chest. Glad he didn’t know that it was much of the same in this world, though to a lesser degree, I let both hands gesture vaguely in exasperation around us.

“if you haven’t noticed, we’re not in your world.” Red actually bared his teeth at me. Bristling at the threat, I subconsciously do the same, squaring my shoulders.

“they ain’t yer property!”

“they’re not yours either.” Magic began to crackle between us, and just as it was building enough to start an encounter, the creaking of the ladder snapped us both out of it. You popped your stuff over the edge onto the floor before climbing out.

“this ain’t over, vanilla.” I sighed a world-weary sigh. Unfortunately, I already knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this! I'm getting into the swing of college, so I might post more, but that's a definite maybe. Also, the comments I get honestly give me life, like one just says that they liked the chapter, and I just... my heart ;-;


	9. Getting to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some much needed bonding, and being oblivious as usual.
> 
> No warnings

“Hey, have you guys got anything to do later?” I clamber to my feet. Now this was much braver than I would normally be, but half a bottle of scotch is a decent amount for a human to get drunk off of. ~~_Not that I was drunk, obviously, just quite buzzed… yeah, let’s go with buzzed._~~ Liquid courage coursing through my veins had forced that small part of me to become much louder, convincing me that I needed to get to know these two better for _some_ reason.

“uh, not really kid, at least I don’t.”

“nah, i’m free, what you need?” I grin slightly lopsidedly and head to my bartending position. Gesturing them to sit down again, I slap my deck of cards onto the counter. Sans look confused, whilst Red is seemingly catching onto my plan.

“Well, if we’re going to be in an alliance, would be good if we knew each other a bit better, huh?” I take another drink, craving a stronger buzz to take the edge off my emotions. My face falls a bit as I recognise what I’m doing, but I’m quickly distracted by Red.

“while i’m usually all for drinkin’ myself into a hole, imma have to stop ya there.” He pulls the bottle away from my grasp. Pouting slightly, I relent and, rolling my eyes, begin to shuffle the deck.

“Fiiiiine. Spoilsport.” I don’t notice Sans staring into the side of his skull as Red takes a slow drink, savouring the taste of something that wasn’t the contents of the bottle, too busy coming up with a good game for three people.

“Anyway, what better way to get to know a person than by gambling. You know how to play blackjack?” I grin and begin dealing out cards, but I’m cut off once again. The cards gathered by Sans as he stops me in my tracks.

“kid, I’m not betting against you, you _just_ lost your business.” He sounds exasperated and in return I blow a small raspberry.

“Boo, your both spoilsports then.”

“if havin’ morals is spoilin’ ya fun, then sure. hand over the deck.” I give it to Red, pouting a bit more now. I pull my waistcoat down and smooth it over my chest, feeling more secure now that I’m flat again. He begins to deal, giving us ten cards each, showing me that we’re playing rummy. He puts the deck in the middle, face down, creating the stock and takes the top card to go face up beside it.

Picking up my deck, I squint at my hand before giggling at my pretend scrutiny. Looking up at them, they’re both intently looking at their own hands, a slight magic buzz coming from the pair. _Didn’t take them for serious players._ I space out looking at them slightly, thinking that they look a bit similar. _Sure, Red is taller and his bones a bit thicker, but they both have round skulls and a stocky build. Both their eyes blaze with magic as well, obviously different colours. Is that why Red calls him Blue?_

I’m snapped out when Sans prompts me, as I’m the left of the dealer. Chuckling awkwardly, I take a good look at my hand as I grab an unknown card from stock. Discarding a stray four of hearts, I leave it face up in a new pile as I meld some of my hand into half formed sets. Sans instantly picks up my discard, causing me to swear under my breath. A couple rounds like that, and when Red laughs at my nth swear, it just slips out.

“Don’t laugh at me, fucker.”

 _Hello, heart, yeah, can you not stop? Thanks._ I felt as if I was playing a match with Shawn and the guys, where calling each other fucker was more of a nickname than an insult, so it was unsurprising that I said it. Doesn’t mean that it was appropriate in the _slightest_ to call a don. I cover up with an excuse.

“I-I-I said funner! As in... funner… skeleton?” It was obviously phrased as more of a question. My alcohol addled brain came up with the best it could. I shrunk down into myself, boring a hole into my hand as I drew it close to my face. I nearly threw them when loud guffawing started up.

Peeking over the cards, I spotted Red absolutely _losing his shit_. Seeing the beast of a man leaning back and mouth wide open didn’t settle me at all, sharp teeth glinting in an unspoken ~~kind of attractive~~ threat. It was only half a moment before I noticed that Sans was laughing as well. He was a bit lower key, but anything would be in comparison to Red. He had his face buried in his arms on the counter, shoulders shaking and muffled chuckles leaking out. Once they calmed themselves, the insulted party addressed me.

“g-god damn, haven’t laughed that hard in a, in a while. heh, feel free ta call me fucker anytime, flame.” The drink continued to pull my muscles loose, and I grinned brightly in response to his shark-toothed grin and the permission to jokingly insult the brick wall of a monster.

“Fuck you guys!” I threw my hand down after the who-knows-how-many loss _in a row_. Scowling at their smug grins, I ‘humph’ in response and check the time on my pocket watch. I was shocked to discover that we had been playing for nearly three hours, so including the deal making it was now one in the afternoon.

“Ah, shit.” Now that I had noticed it, my day drinking had made me excessively hungry.

“Uh, would it be alright if we could get some food?” Red blinked owlishly at me, before taking out his phone and checking the time on it.

“shit, yeah. c’mon, we can head to grillby’s, he serves good grub.” I nod, packing the cards back into their box and hauling my bag over a shoulder, shoving it into a side pocket. His associate seemed thoughtful, pulling his own phone out and texting someone, making me question how he could use a touchscreen without skin.

“alright, let’s head out. kid, you’re not drinking anything but water though.” I frown at him, turning my nose up at him and going around the counter.

“Well, I guess I’ll port with Red then.”

Standing in front of him, I feel his hand rest on my shoulder as I stick my tongue out at Sans. I grin and just as the not-sound begins, I close my eyes and we move location.

I stay behind for a brief second after. Resting a clenched hand on my sternum, I calm my soul before heading after them. _i need to find a better nickname for them, kid just isn’t cutting it anymore, especially with Red calling them flame._ Talking about my double, they’re getting closer a lot quicker than I would have expected. _ok, that was a lie, they are soulmates after all, but why him and not me as well? is it because of what i did?_

 _…does their subconscious remember what i did?_ Shaking myself off, I sigh and teleport myself over.

I stumble backwards, balance off kilter from a mixture of booze and the form of travel. Feeling myself knock into a chest, I let myself lean on him as I breathe through the nausea, closing my eyes. When I hear Sans pop in as well, I look up at Red and catch his eye, winking as I pat one of the hands on my shoulders, moving away. Once I’m back on my own two feet, I look around to see what Grillby’s looked like from the inside.

It was exactly as I expected. A bar towards the back of the room with the flamesman himself manning the drinks, stools not dissimilar from my own as seating. There were booths on the right wall, each seating around six people each, and tables filling the rest of the floor. It was a mixture of browns and reds, appropriate theming to create a warm environment that reminded me of the feelings I used to get in my speakeasy. It even had a slightly raised stage to the right of the bar. Sighing lightly, I stand by Sans and tilt my head at him.

“c’mon, lets head to my usual place.” He grins and leads me right to the stools I mentioned earlier. Feeling sentimental already, I lightly brush it with my fingertips before taking a seat beside him, tucking my bag under my hanging feet. Red taking my left, having seen what I did, knocked me with his elbow. Getting my attention, I turn to him as he looks at me concerned.

“y’alright? ya wanna go somewhere else?” Sighing again, I take a quick glance over my shoulder, spotting people turning their heads away from our group. I grin at him and just shake my head.

“Nah, it’s nice here. Warm.”

“well, if ya like the heat, i can warm ya up plenty.” I huff a laugh and roll my eyes, pushing his shoulder, a bit surprised at the obvious offer. He sways with the movement playfully, not tearing his eyes from me. When a hand taps on the bar, I look up to see Grillby in front of me.

“Welcome to Grillby’s, what can I get you?” I go to speak before realising that not only do I have no money, I also don’t know what kind of food he has. I look to Sans for some help, as I know that he comes here more often than Red.

“they’ll have my usual, but don’t give them any booze.” I wince slightly at the pointed look, but quickly chime in that I have no way to pay, yet Grillby already left to cook our food.

“don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“more like ya tab, cheapskate.” Sans sends a glare over my head, which I had placed on the counter, as he retaliates.

“at least i don’t harass the patrons.”

“just because ya can’t get laid, not harassment if they also wanna go at it.” I could feel Sans bristle with magic, a static emanating from my right. Raising my head, I pat them both on their upper arms and give them a look each.

“Now now dames, your both beautiful. But uh, Sans,” I take my hand of Red to give him my full attention. “don’t start an encounter in here, much too nice of a place for a brawl.” A wink and I put my head back down on the bar, cushioned by my arms, as the alcohol had made me a bit sleepy. As an afterthought, I also address Red.

“And you, stop provoking him, dipshit.” I kick his shin gently. Relaxing, I listen to the increasing volume of the bar, not noticing that it had quietened during the little spat between the skeletons, and was still quieter than before we entered. Not paying attention was a theme today, as I also didn’t see the confused look sent between them, nor did I see the curious look they both sent me after the exchange. They both murmured to each other, and I let myself drift of slightly to the baritone rumbling.

I was poked awake by a hard object hitting my forearms. Blinking my eyes blearily at said object, I see a plate with a juicy burger on it. Sitting up quickly, I grin at Grillby as he places it in front of me, and looking at the counter I see that I was the last to be served. Thanking him, I grab the bun and take a bite. I could feel the slight popping on my tongue signifying that it was monster food. Humming happily, I swing my legs slightly as I take another, larger bite. I place one of my feet onto the rod running between the legs of the chair and shift my body forwards to rest my elbows on the surface in front of me, focusing fully on the meal, getting more energy as the magic flowed through my system.

“Are you a bartender as well?” Looking up at the flames, I shrug as I deflate slightly.

“Guess you could say that.” I could tell he was confused by my response, but he didn’t pry. Sans started talking to him about an idea he had for something I didn’t really care to eavesdrop about, so I turned my attention back to eating, polishing off the burger. Grabbing a napkin, I wipe my hands off and get started on the chips; looking around for sauces, I spot Red drinking directly from the mustard. I wrinkle my nose at him.

“Are you really drinking that?” Having caught his attention, he looks over at me as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“don’t knock it ‘till ya try it, flame.” He holds the spout towards me, clearly not expecting me to take it and pull it to my mouth as he didn’t let the bottle go. Just as it goes to touch my lips, I catch his eye and wink before breaking down in giggles at his shocked expression, taking it out his hand and pouring some to the side of my chips instead.

“You, you really thought I would drink mustard?”

“pff, i knew ya wouldn’t.” I raise my eyebrow, mouth full, to call his bluff. He keeps a steady grin as I flick my eyes to the bottle.

 _…It couldn’t be_ that _bad_.

Picking it up, once again I raise it to my lips, but this time I take a sip of the thick liquid. I have some difficulty getting it out the bottle, so I squeeze it getting a much larger mouthful than I originally intended. Rolling it around on my tongue, I swallow and turn back to him.

“Eh, not my favourite.” I shrug and stuff chips in to clear my mouth slightly. I forced my face to remain passive yet in reality I wanted to shrivel the whole thing in disgust. He begins to chuckle, much quieter than before and sounding far more genuine, as if I truly surprised him.

“heh, turning down ma offer of becoming the third in our ménage à trois of drinkin’ condiments?” I’m shocked that Red knows that French term, yet it quickly dies down when I realise the meaning behind it. Then it hits me that I would become the third in this situation. Turning to him I voice my confusion and incredulity.

“What, next thing I know you’re telling me that Sans drinks ketchup.” A choked cough comes from my right, causing me to look over.

“No _fucking_ way.” The accused skeleton was wiping off his hands with a napkin, cleaning them of the ketchup he nearly spat across the bar. He looks over at me vaguely sheepish and shrugs, saying that I couldn’t blame him really, he loved ketchup from his head.

“ _tomatoes_.” Deadpanning him, I stick my hand out. When he doesn’t catch what I’m doing, I wiggle my fingers at the bottle, letting him put it into my hand. Biting the bullet, I take a swig, learning from my previous mistake and only squeezing a small amount this time. Covering my tongue, I get it down my throat and deliver my judgement.

“This is why I knew you had a sweet tooth, pretty much pure sugar. Now, whatever I get is on you, right?” Quickly changing topics, he only nods as he, still a bit surprised that I drank ketchup, takes it back from me. Flagging over Grillby, I see Sans trying to stop him from taking my order. Ignoring Sans, I get him to lean over the bar, standing on the rung of my stool, as I whisper what I wanted into his ear. Or, well, where his ear would be.

He stands up straight, raising an eyebrow in question. When I grin, the flames on his head flickers as he sighs and walks into the back. Satisfied, I pointedly ignore their questioning, only returning them with answers in the form of grins, cleaning my plate of food. When Grillby returns, he thumps a bottle onto the counter perking me up.

“Thanks, Grillby.” I take a drink from the familiar bottle. A few gulps later, I drop my hand and take in the guys’ faces. Sans was taken aback, a small smile of confusion gracing his features as he pinched an eyebrow down, and Red was much of the same. I snort and begin to laugh, resting my elbow on the counter and burying my face in one hand, losing my shit. Red snaps out of it first, pointing a finger at me accusingly.

“ya drink fuckin’ syrup?”

“Think we could add chocolate to the ménage à trois?” Sans, still in a state of slight shock, mutters out a quiet addition.

“and they said ketchup was sweet… wait, what’s this about a what now?” I snort hard enough to send me coughing for a few moments. Once calming myself down, I take a bite of my final chip, cutting it in half.

“Red dared me to drink his mustard, so when I took him up and told him he had horrible taste,” I glance out the corner of my eye. “he said he was looking forward to having a condiment ménage à whatever with the three of us.” I look down at the syrup, then the chip, hesitating before pouring some on it.

“Too bad syrup isn’t a condiment.” Shrugging, I pop the other half in my mouth.  
Tasting the blend of sweet and salty, I couldn’t help but feel like something was missing from the mouthful. Maybe something spicy, or maybe something tangy, I couldn’t really tell. After all, I’m not a chef.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!! Posting another chapter?? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> This is my favourite written so far, because I feel like i gave each of them their rightful personalities, whilst still having an engagin(and i dare say, funny) chapter!!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


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